


A Stone's throw to Snow

by Alzerak



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Jon Snow is Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Masturbation, Post S8, Roleplay, slight Dom!Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 14:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alzerak/pseuds/Alzerak
Summary: Queen Sansa Stark has the respect and love of her people, but when they protest her methods she sends her best on a mission to bring a lost one back to the pack.





	A Stone's throw to Snow

Six months was all it took for Queen Sansa Stark to find herself surrounded by disapproving Lords and Ladies, ready to voice their displeasure. Her council had also turned against her, and even her castle staff had thrown their lot in with those opposed to the actions and methods of the Queen in the North.

“You are aware of this, your Grace.” Lord Glover spoke first, followed by Lady Karstark, showcasing the unity of the leaders of the North. “But we need to mention it again to refresh all our memories.”

It was actually to set the background for this work of writing, but they don’t need to know this.

“After we ‘elected’ your Grace.” Lord Manderly added. “We withdrew to our various holdings and consolidated ourselves for the Winter. In following the traditions of the North as practised by your forefathers, you have not acted in an authoritarian manner, rather allowing us some autonomy in the running of the lands under our control.”

“Perhaps this is how you’ve been able to manage all this.” Lord Cerwyn gestured to the great table, covered with paper after he dumped a whole ruck-sack of the stuff on to the table for dramatic effect.

Sansa seemed nonplussed. “My Lord?”

“Evidence, your Grace.” Lord Cerwyn began to read. 

“Lord Cerwyn.

As discussed previously, the thirty wagons of grain will arrive at your gates in two weeks time.

Sansa Stark, Queen in the North.”

A flash of understanding passed over the Queen’s face.

“Are you saying that there was an issue with the delivery?” 

Lord Cerwyn exchanged a glance with the numerous other Lords and Ladies and various persons around the table. It was very long and Queen Sansa waited patiently for the look to be returned by all present. 

“The delivery,” Lord Cerwyn licked his lips as though going in for the kill. “Was impeccable.”

“So the goods were damaged?” Sansa pressed.

“No.”  
“The quantity was not as promised?”

“No.”

“My Lord, I’m beginning to think you’re stretching this out for dramatic effect.”

At this, Lord Cerwyn burst into an animated rant. “Your Grace, it is all of this!” Lord Cerwyn gestured. “All the other Northern Houses can attest to receiving messages from you in the much the same manner.”

“We have.” Lord Forrester continued. “We shall not pour the hard evidence on to this table, as fun as the dramatic effect would be, we are here for more serious concerns.”

“We are in the middle of winter, Your grace, after years of war and strife. Preparations for winter have been difficult, and knowing this, what will we find if we look in the storehouses of Winterfell? Lord Manderly directed his attention on Sansa.

“You don’t need to answer, your Grace.” Lord Manderly continued. “I know it will be full.”

“As are all our storehouses.” Lady Karstark continued. “It is not our storehouses that is the concern, Your Grace, but rather what led to that. We should not have full storehouses in the middle of Winter.”

“Lord Cerwyn?” Sansa nodded to his papers scattered across the table. Even in the middle of a political crisis, Sansa’s courtesies got her places, and Lord Cerwyn graciously gathered up the papers.

“Clearly, as you have come with representatives from all houses which have sworn fealty to me, as well as having garnered an alliance with my advisers and my staff, I have to make amends for what is obvious a tremendous failure on my part. Now if it is concern over economic repercussions, I can begin by-” At this, Sansa paused, as eyes began to meet with each other accompanied by muttering and shuffling of feet.

“Lord Glover?”

Glover coughed and repeated himself. “I said: ‘This never would have happen under the King in the North’, your Grace.”

Sansa swallowed. “We all wish we could have those days again.” Lady Dustin elbowed Lord Glover in the ribs for some reason.

“What we mean, your Grace, is that…” Lord Glover continued, faltering under Sansa’s Queenly Gaze. 

But the Northern Lords, famed for their candour even with their lieges, seemed uncertain of how to proceed, barring dramatic outbursts every so often.

It was at this time that Lady Mormont, whose house was definitely not extinct, spoke up. “Your Grace, you have done so much for the North, but what have you done for yourself?”

Sansa blinked.

“They’re saying you need a break, your Grace.”

At this, the gathered parties all nodded in frightening unison.

“You are too kind, My Lords and Ladies.” Sansa replied graciously. “You give me too much credit. It is thanks to the tireless work of all the men and women we serve that the North is so well prepared.”

After this, there was vehement disagreement in all circles. Lord Manderly raised an accusation that it was treason to not acknowledge the Queen as the bestest and most diligently hard-working liege in history.

“That’s not treason.” Sansa replied incredulously.

“It should be.” Lord Manderly sulked, but returned to his seat.

“I appreciate, your concern, my Lords and Ladies, but there is so much work to do.”

“If you have one flaw, your Grace, is that you don’t appreciate yourself enough.” Maester Wolkan nodded as Lady Flint spoke up. “When was the last time you spent time for your own enjoyment?”

And after this, despite Sansa’s protests, and the fact that if she decreed it, they would leave the matter alone, Sansa decided to acquiesce to their wishes, even if to keep their morale up.

The Lords were pleased when their contacts in Winterfell reported that Queen Sansa would spend time on her own endeavours, but not two moons passed and they found themselves needing to return once more, for Sansa had decided to work even harder to make up for all the time she was spending on herself. This could not be, so, with as much reverential respect as they could muster, they requested that her Grace, the Queen in the North, take a well-deserved holiday.

Of course, preparations had to be made, and when Sansa Stark gave her word, the Lords believed her, though Queen Sansa continued to work, but now she focused on geopolitical matters rather than the running of the North.

When Queen Sansa made arrangements and asked for your agreement, you generally approved, for her wisdom and vision normally gave you benefit. So pieces were moved across the board. Knowing she had the support of her nobles, Sansa embarked on her next mission.

 

To the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

It is agreed that the organisation of the Night’s Watch, and the lands, castles, and men under its command, shall cease to be under the authority of the Liege of the Six Kingdoms, and will pass to the authority of the Liege of the Northern Kingdom.

Brandon Stark, King of the Six Kingdoms.

 

To the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

A liaison will be set up between your organisation and the Northern Kingdom. In the meantime, goods, men and equipment will be sent to assist in your reconstruction efforts.

Sansa Stark, Queen of the Northern Kingdom.

 

To the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

There have been concerning reports that you have thwarted zero Wildling raids and have defended the realms of men from zero existential threats. This is concerning as you have been using valuable resources and men from the North. I will be sending my best people to bring you to answer for these inactions. Should you feel that you are unable to defend yourself, I suggest departing on an urgent mission.

Sansa Stark, Queen of the Northern Kingdom.

 

The Lord Commander tried to read between the lines of the Queen’s latest missive. After her first message to the Lord Commander, correspondence had been made with the person she had hand-picked to act as liason to the Night’s Watch, a merchant’s daughter from White Harbor. The Lord Commander had acted diligently as it seemed that despite his dishonour, he was cursed to be responsible for an organisation that had out-lived its usefulness.

The Lord Commander dared not open the letters that Sansa had sent to Jon, dreading the pardon that they doubtlessly contained, a pardon that Jon Snow was unworthy of receiving.

Still, the Queen’s latest message seemed to give him a chance to avoid a meeting, should he desire, and once again, the Lord Commander found himself at war with himself. How much of Sansa is in this message? Jon wondered. Jon yearned to be with Sansa, but the Lord Commander, a man who felt the burden of responsibility, quashed that selfish desire. Her Grace spent so long stitching the North together. A broken man should not ruin that for her.

But in the back of his mind, as much as he tried to push it away, the issue of politics came up. When King Bran commanded that the loyalty of the Night’s Watch would be transferred, the Lord Commander saw the wisdom, but he was also concerned. Surely if he could see the repercussions of such an action, then others could too, others who held the fragile peace in Westeros in the palm of their hands. But, Jon Snow reminded himself, an annoying voice that popped up with fanciful notions of forgiveness and family, that surely the monarchs in the south realised this, and continued anyway.

But as the day drew nearer, it became harder and harder to quell Jon Snow, as he quaked against the injustice of being sentenced for a crime that was never a crime, yet his failings were unacknowledged. Eventually, the Lord Commander decided to leave. To hunt, he explained.

The Night’s Watch was in a limbo. They did not care where he went.

A small piece of Jon Snow wondered if Sansa would seek him out.  
There would be none of that thought. The hunt was to clear the mind, and resolve it towards duty, and so the Lord Commander left, his white shadow beside him, another loyalty he was unworthy of.

 

The Lord Commander was not taken by surprise, but he shot an annoyed look at his companion who had failed to give him advanced warning of the new arriver. A small rabbit was skewered over the firepit that the Lord Commander had built in the lee of the valley.

The newcomer’s footfalls were soft, and so was his companion, who padded out purposefully to appraise the new arrival. The Lord Commander waited, feigning intense interest in the cooking of the meat.

When the wolf rounded the newcomer and instead of trotting away, as it would for one without threat, or standing guardian, as it would towards a threat, it weaved its way around the legs of the newcomer before happily loping alongside this individual. 

“Lord Commander.” 

In the grey shadows under the hood, the Lord Commander saw a pink tongue dart out to moisten the lips as the statuesque hooded figure thrust out a right hand whilst the left pulled down the hood to reveal a head crowned by a mass of black hair, pulled back and tied neatly.

As the Lord Commander politely took the individual’s offered hand, it spoke.

“Alayne Stone, Milord. I have come for you.” 

 

Jon Snow willed his treacherous heart to contain itself, because she was here. She was touching him even now, and how wretched he was that this barest of contact was the sweetest of bliss. 

The Lord Commander had to take charge. He released her hand.

“My lady.” the Lord Commander bowed as duty decreed. “Are you to take me to her Grace forthwith?”

“There is no need to hurry on her behalf.” Alayne replied. “I’m sure she has bigger concerns than you and I.”

The Lord Commander nodded at the truth of these words, yet Jon felt a bitter bite at their tail. 

“I had wondered about her Grace’s concern with us.” The Lord Commander confessed, as he chivalrously guided Alayne around a seat on the large fallen log next to the fire. “As understandable as the concern of Her Grace towards the lack of usefulness of the Night’s Watch, surely there is a bigger issue than one member?”

“The issue of the Night’s Watch has come up,” Alayne responded, absent-mindedly giving the Wolf a scratch behind the ears. “Her Grace, as I am to understand, has even met with representatives from peoples north of the Wall. From what I can tell, there is little threat from the North, and yet this place that does not belong still continues.”

Alayne’s piercing blue eyes were directed at the Lord Commander, but he needed to continue this, without the veneer shattering and the broken man within crumbling away. “And that is, in the end, why it is here, is it not?” Alayne asked. “Belonging.”

It was Jon that answered, a brief moment that the control wavered. “I don’t know.”

So they sat, partaking of the rabbit together. Alayne told the Lord Commander of her upbringing, how her father had brought her north, and how she had eventually came into the service of the Queen in the North, although, as she explained, service was an odd way to put their arrangement.

“I’m sort of like her Bronn.”

At the Lord Commander’s puzzled expression, Alayne’s eyes darkened. “Oh boy, are you lucky you’ve been freezing your arse off up here. Bronn was Tyrion Lannister’s muscle, although he was good enough at being muscle he found himself as Master of Coin and is eyeing more, last I heard.”

The Lord Commander’s eyes darkened at the mention of Tyrion Lannister, and Alayne’s lips must have dried in the cold, for she chose that moment to wet them again with her tongue. 

The Lord Commander shuffled to find a more comfortable arrangement. “And this Lord Bronn is a competent individual?”

Alayne scoffed. “I cannot say as to other matters, but in this new arrangement, hardly.” Alayne rolled her eyes. She leaned over, her proximity making the air feel warm. “Between you and I, the Night’s Watch has been receiving food from the North since before the arrangement.”

The Lord Commander glanced from Alayne’s eyes to the tip of her nose to her sweet lips. For the third time, her tongue darted out to wet them. 

“In that case, my Lady, I must ask you not to compare yourself with him.” With great effort, the Lord Commander wrenched himself back from the pull of Alayne Stone. “You, at least, have done part of your job.”

Alayne laughed, a glorious sound. “I am no lady, Milord.”

After the rabbit was consumed, and the fire put out, the Lord Commander waited dutifully for Alayne Stone to lead him to the main group who would bring him to the Queen’s Judgement. But Alayne had other ideas.

“The Queen is very busy.” She informed him. “Though I’m sure she will find the time to sit in judgement of the Lord Commander, I can offer counsel to that accord, counsel which I shall gather on our journey.”

Jon’s nostrils flared. “Are we to be alone?”

Alayne nodded. “Discounting your noble companion, though help will be at hand if required.”

The Lord Commander appraised the lateness of the evening and the fact that Alayne Stone had not brought a bedroll.

“Looks like you forgot something.” The Lord Commander smirked as he rolled out his sleeping arrangement. 

“Yes,” Alayne agreed. “It looks like I did.”

 

Sleep came unusually quickly for the Lord Commander, and he felt the presence of Alayne coming to lie near to him. Depending on how he turned, she was behind or in front of him, and occasionally, the wolf would lie next to her. Still, despite only being covered by a thin blanket, she did not shiver, and so the Lord Commander slept on.

Morning broke, and the dim orange of the pre-dawn the Lord Commander regretted his decision to sleep on the inner side of the lee, sandwiched as he was between his wolf and Alayne. Alayne, who was breathing peacefully as she slept, seemingly untroubled by the Lord Commander’s predicament as he tried to extricate himself from between the two. Ghost knocked him further into Alayne’s back as the wolf rose, before trotting off into the distance, but the damage had been done. Alayne stirred, and the Lord Commander felt the swell of her body shift into him as she moved, and the Lord Commander stilled, waiting for his body to betray him, waiting for Alayne to wake and rebuke him, but she stopped, and her breathing returned to a rhythm, and the Lord Commander dared not move as his lower regions reacted to her nearness. A haze between sleep and wakefulness eventually coaxed him back to sleep.

Sleep did not come easily to the Lord Commander, and nightmares came even more frequently to Jon Snow, so when a peaceful sleep did come, the Lord Commander knew to take advantage of it. But this sleep was not altogether without incident, as quashed pieces of Snow’s subconscious continued to bubble to the surface, exasperated by Alayne’s presence. Mercifully, nothing came of it, and the Lord Commander awoke to the smell of cooking.

Alayne was bent over a pot she had obviously procured, stirring gently. Before he could protest that she did not have to perform such a service, Alayne stood and regarded the Lord Commander with authority.

“It is nearly done. You can freshen yourself up in the meantime.”

At this, the Lord Commander took a look at Alayne, who had shed the outer robe she wore and instead showed far too much skin for a northern winter. The Lord Commander nodded, thanking the covers atop him that were allowing him to disguise his body’s reaction to the bare expanse of skin above from her neck to the top of her chest, as a delicate feathered arrangement wrapped around her exquisite curvature.

The Lord Commander scrambled down the hill, around the side to where he could hear Alayne’s voice, should she call, but where she could not see him, to the stream that flowed with clear chill water. The Lord Commander invigorated himself with a scrubbing to the face. Despite the chill of the Winter morning, the Lord Commander felt hot under his winter cloaks, so he removed them to allow them to air for a moment. It is my body’s natural reaction. Alayne just happened to be the first woman I’ve been close to in a very long time. The Lord Commander told himself. It will die in time.

They moved out. The Lord Commander spent the day conversing with Alayne on mundane matters, occasionally taking the time to explain a survival technique. Unfortunately,accidents were bound to happen, and the Lord Commander’s bedroll was soaked when Alayne slipped and pulled the Lord Commander as they crossed a wider stream. 

The Lord Commander rolled onto the bank. He had been spared, but Alayne had been sat right into the flowing cold water. She took his offered hand and he pulled her out of the water, before she turned around and bent down to retrieve his bedroll.

Jon’s eyes widened. Alayne’s skirt had shifted in the commotion, the thicker outer layer had somehow flipped over the curve of her rear, and the water had soaked her thinner, inner skirts, leaving a clear image of Alayne’s arse scorched into Jon - the Lord Commander’s mind. All too soon, and all too slowly, Alayne stood, gingerly examining the half-soaked bedroll. 

”I’m so clumsy.” Alayne apologised. “I’ll fix this up. Would you mind terribly if I asked you to prepare dinner, once again?”

The Lord Commander did not mind, though he trusted a capable woman like Alayne to be aware of the dangers of wearing wet clothing, especially in the cold, Jon Snow shot her a look.

“I’ll dry these off, in the meantime.” Alayne informed him, as she gathered firewood to get a small fire started.

With Alayne occupied, the Lord Commander toiled in his own mind. This was a chance to be alone, and he could not lie that his body had not reacted to hers. Still, it seemed shameful to take advantage of an accident, even in thought, and it was not the Lord Commander who was the shameful one. A brief forage later, and the Lord Commander returned with the necessary sustenance to Alayne Stone, who had cleverly set up the items to hang where they would take best advantage of the air currents.

Alayne herself used the blanket and the outer robe for cover. When the suggestion was made that she could procure fresh new garments, Alayne refused, citing that she would have to live with her mistakes.

When night fell, Alayne’s thin skirts were dry enough, but the rest of her skirts, as well as the bedroll, were not. 

The Lord Commander frowned, considering the options.   
“You should take my cloak.” The Lord Commander intoned; but Alayne was having none of it.

“I ruined your bedroll. I should be doing something for you.”

“I should have had the sense not to guide you over that portion of the stream. You would not have fallen had I not been careless.’

“I am supposed to be responsible for you. I have a duty of care to her Grace’s subject of which you are one, and I have failed.”

“I am the more experienced in this area, and I-”

At this, Alayne shook her head. “If we keep this up, we’ll never get anywhere. We’ll have to pool our resources. My blanket and robes, your cloak.”

“All well and good,” the Lord Commander answered. “But we run into the same problem when we divide it.”

Alayne smirked. “That is why we don’t divide it. Front or back.”

“Front.” Jon answered quickly. Alayne’s smirk widened, but she settled behind him atop the cloak and covered them both with her blanket. 

“We’ll share our body heat.” Alayne explained as she pressed her body into the back of the Lord Commander’s

The Lord Commander did not dare inform her of the true method of sharing body heat.

 

The thin blanket was surprisingly warm, so much so that the Lord Commander awoke to feeling warmer than he was expecting. Alayne seemed to be in a more restless sleep, so it was easier to slip away, being careful to ensure that she was adequately and securely covered in his absence. The Lord Commander moved away to relieve himself, though it became harder to ignore, he knew that Alayne’s presence, and the memories, both real and imagined that fuelled his libido, would not be in control. The Lord Commander was not Jon Snow, was not weak or dishonourable, and he could return to bed and with force of will, make his body obey.

 

He could not.

Fortunately, he had the foresight not to sleep behind her, wear she could definitely feel his reaction to her. Fortunately, Alayne was still asleep when Jon awoke and journeyed to the stream to prepare for the morning. As the water boiled, the Lord Commander returned to the stream to ready himself. He decided that an invigorating all-body sponge wash was probably the solution to his woes concerning Alayne Stone. He chased the cold water with a drying towel, and continued the process as he moved across his body. Regrettably, the Lord Commander found there was too much of Jon Snow inside of him, and he could not so easily quell the thoughts that Alayne was bringing to the surface.

It was then that the Lord Commander realised the solution to his problem was not a struggle against the overwhelming tide, but an exit away from thoughts of Alayne.

Alayne was still sleeping. He could take care of himself. He just needed to avoid thinking of her.

He shrugged his shirt on, his pants on the ground beside him. Taking his hardening manhood in hand, the Lord Commander began to stroke, racking his mind for thoughts to fuel his release - but his own memories were too painful, or too shameful, or forbidden. He then tried to remember snippets of conversation of men who visited Mole’s Town, but the disjointed memories brought tension but little relief. 

He dared not think of those in Jon Snow’s past - that way lay only trouble, yet the Lord Commander could not find release in a mass of imagined body parts and disjointed actions that seemed to be pieces of a puzzle that did not fit together, a marionette with its strings cut. 

The Lord Commander took a deep breath to try to centre himself, and smelt Alayne even on the shirt he wore, her scent and the memory of her body pressed against his hardening him further. 

You want to. The voice of self-loathing spoke up in the Lord Commander’s mind. You want nothing else but to find your release by her. He was not weak as Jon Snow was, but even the Lord Commander had his breaking point. If not her, then there is another; even more forbidden. Choose, or the choice will be taken from you.

The Lord Commander remembered the feel of Alayne’s body pressed into his, the sight of the tops of her breasts and the globe of her arse, the feel of it rubbing against his cock, even with layer upon layer between them. The Lord Commander stroked himself purposefully, trying to build himself up quickly so release would come with haste. But release was not forthcoming, instead, the tension continued to mount.

You still refuse to do what must be done. Her body is not what this is about. It is desirable, yet it is not what you want! The Lord Commander continued with extra vigour, trying to drown out the voice in his head. You want the story. You want her to catch you, don’t you?

No.

No.

Yes.

Say her name.

It was just a slight noise, a groan, if that, but the Lord Commander broke. “Alayne.” 

A twig snapped behind him, before the Lord Commander seized, yet fortuitously, it was only Ghost, who padded down the streambank without even a look.

The Lord Commander took a couple of heavy breaths to quiet his nerves, before glancing around the area to see no one in sight, before returning his attention to his cock.

He was so in the moment, that a breath next to his ear made him freeze.

“Lord Commander,” Alayne Stone whispered into the shell of his ear. “I believe you called for me.”

At this, Alayne’s hand moved around to take the Lord Commander’s arm, gently, so he could free himself should he desire, yet firmly, brooking no illusions as to who was in charge.

“I have been an entirely unfair captor.” Alayne breathed. “Getting you worked up without giving you release.” Alayne’s fingers danced across the Lord Commander’s forearm and thighs, and he stood stiffly as she moved, his hand squeezing his cock slightly. 

“We both know this is what you want, Lord Commander.” Alayne instructed. “But you have to ask for it.”

Her hand gripped the wrist of his hand holding his cock, keeping it steady.

“Please.” The Lord Commander moaned.

“Please, whom? Please, what?”

“Please, Alayne. Please touch my cock.”

But Alayne did not touch his cock for a couple of dreadful seconds, before she pulled the Lord Commander flush against her chest, where he felt her nipples, hardening in the cool morning air, against his back, as her hand wrapped around his cock and began to pump.

“What do you feel?” Alayne demanded, her other hand roaming under the open flaps of his shirt.

“You-your hand on my cock.”

“Good.” Alayne exhaled into the shell of his ear. “What else?”

The Lord Commander struggled to steady himself as Alayne’s soft touches tickled him as she continued to move along his cock, slowing as he did not yet answer.

“Your teats. Your teats against my back.”

“Very good.” Alayne licked the pulse point on the Lord Commander’s neck, before gently sucking it. His cock twitched in her hand. “And why is that?”

The Lord Commander groaned.

“You want them.” Alayne explained. “I saw you looking at them. I thought you’d take yourself in hand yesterday morning, after seeing their tops.” Alayne confessed. “Yet you did not, did you?”

“No.” 

“You’re such a composed man. None would have blamed you had you decided to take yourself in hand to the thought of them.”

Jon bit his bottom lip as Alayne continued to work his cock.

“So full, and perky, and round.” Alayne added shamelessly. “I know you would not dare call me a liar.”

“Never.” Jon whimpered. “I love-” 

The Lord Commander cut him off.

“You’d love them so much right now, pushed up by the neckline of my dress. Would you like to see them?”

“Yes, Alayne, please!”

Even now, the Lord Commander felt that his release was imminent, and Alayne continued to pump away at his cock.

“Are you worthy?”

The next question broke through the haze of pleasure. “No!” The Lord Commander answered instantly. “Yes!”  
“Worthy enough for your seed to coat my breasts?” Alayne sucked the thumb of her other hand into her mouth, moistening it before gently touching it to the frenulum of his cock. “As soon as you turn around, you will explode your release. Are you worthy?”

“I don’t know!” The Lord Commander answered, and his seed squirted into the air in three convulsions. 

“That’s a shame.” Alayne complained, releasing the Lord Commander’s cock. “I’m nearly as disappointed as you are.”

She rearranged her dress and departed as Lord Commander Jon Snow tried to take stock of what just happened.


End file.
